


Things Not Included

by miss_nettles_wife



Series: Whumptober 2019 [13]
Category: Eerie Indiana
Genre: All hurt no comfort, Angst, Gen, Missing Scene, Organ Donation, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 06:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21070499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: Whumptober day 13: adrenaline (this one doesn't fit so well .<.)Mars saying goodbye to Devon, just before Melaine gets his heart.





	Things Not Included

**Author's Note:**

> IDK where this one went wrong, because it's not really about adrenaline but it's still good. I had this idea of seeing what Mars did at the hospital when the adrenaline wore off and he realized what had just happened. I also wanted to write a scene that fit into canon, but might not be something Marshall, our beloved but unreliable narrator, would include. so. more angst.

“Marshall, honey, do you want to say goodbye to him?”   
  
Mrs. Wilde’s face was smeared with a layer of displaced foundation, and spidery lines of mascara. Her long blonde hair was still swept into a tall updo. She was young, really young to have a son as old as Devon. But she was always nice. So was Devon’s father, who had a hand on his wife’s shoulder, eyes watering.   
  
“Goodbye?” He asked, still feeling like he was going to wake up from this terrible dream at any second. She nodded and put a hand on his cheek.   
  
“He’s still...They haven’t…”   
  
“He’s still alive.” Mr. Wilde says, “If you want to say goodbye, now is the time.”   
  
“Oh...Yeah.” He said, slowly. Hesitantly, he gives over Devon’s skateboard, which he is still holding tight against his chest. Mr. Wilde gave him a sad smile, and he went with them down the long hallway to what he assumed was the intensive care unit, but considering the distinct lack of signage in Eerie Hospital, could have been about anywhere.   
  
They put Devon into a little room off to the side, with big frosted glass doors.   
  
“Take as long as you like, honey.” Mrs. Wilde says, but Marshall already knows that they’re going to have to hurry to get his heart to Melanie. He pushed open the door, and there was a girl by his side. He recognized her as another Wilde, probably a cousin. He knew Devon didn’t have any siblings. She looked up at him with teary eyes and made an escape without saying more than ‘I’m so sorry.’   
  
He wandered to the chair she’d vacated, and sat. He’d never seen a dying person up close before. The room was full of the soft beeping of the heart monitor, and a whooshing noise from the machine down his throat. Breathing, he surmised. He wasn’t really sure what to say, even less what to do.   
  
Eventually, he reached out a hand to touch Devon’s. Which was stupid; they weren’t kids, they didn’t need hand-holding. He pulled his hand back to his side, and then sat on it.   
  
“I guess you’re not going to be going to the dance.” He said, finally. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that.” He added after a short breath. He doesn’t know if Devon can hear him; he’s pretty sure he can’t. Forty minutes ago, he was hammering the door of some lady’s house begging her to call nine-one-one because his friend got hit by a milk truck. Forty minutes ago, he had adrenaline pumping through his veins, stopping him from feeling anything other than determined. To do what? To come to the hospital and find out that he’d died anyway?   
  
Or, would be soon.   
“No one in this town listens to me.” He said, softly, “And then bad things happen to them. I knew we were going to lose classmates I just...I didn’t think it would be you.” He bit down on his lip and realized how tired he was. Not physically, well, yes physically from coming off the rush of adrenaline, but also of Eerie. He was tired of the whole thing, of losing friends, of having to be the only person aware of the strangeness and well. Of being alone.   
  
He cared about Simon, of course, he did. That kid was his best friend, the only person who really, really listened to him but Devon...Simon was a kid. He didn’t understand and didn’t have the same lunch breaks as him. Before he and Devon were friends, he’d spend them alone pouring over the books from the library. Then he met Devon, and he had someone his own age to spend time with. To talk to about things. To ask for help on difficult maths questions. He liked to think that Devon liked spending time with him too, and that was why he kept coming back.   
  
Devon could have been popular if he wanted to. He was cool enough, and people liked him. But he chose Marshall, to be an outcast, and to be weird.  
  
“Why couldn’t you have just listened to me?” He asked, already knowing the answer. Devon lived for the adrenaline rush. He would have done it no matter what. “You clown.” He said, and he could feel sadness pushing up against the back of his eyes. He sucked in a deep, wet breath.   
  
“I’ll miss you. I hope if Heaven or whatever is real, then you go there.”   
  
He knew it was silly, but he kept hoping he’d wake up, move, do something, but all there was is the wooshing sound of the breathing machine. He can’t think of anything to say, and he feels like what he did say was wholly inappropriate but he was so tired and didn’t know what else to say.   
  
“I’m gonna miss you.” He repeats, and then held his hand for a moment, before leaving. His parents are waiting for him, his mother is holding Mrs. Wilde, who is still crying. When they get home, he sleeps so deeply that even if his parents were going to make him go to school the next day he’d have slept through it.   
  
He dreams about being caught in a horrible storm, and Devon is just there, but he can’t walk fast enough through the driving rain to catch up to him. The therapist that his parents send him too says that dreams like that are to be expected. 


End file.
